


In This Together

by dragon_temeraire



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Everyone Is Alive, Fluff, Future Fic, Humor, M/M, Sharing a Bed, Vacation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-27
Updated: 2018-07-27
Packaged: 2019-06-17 00:09:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15448941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragon_temeraire/pseuds/dragon_temeraire
Summary: “Clearly the situation calls for us to share,” Derek says.“And we can deal with it maturely,” Stiles agrees. “We’re adults.”





	In This Together

**Author's Note:**

> I saw [ this list](http://ruingaraf.tumblr.com/post/118133540359/alternative-bedsharing-fics-obviously-the) of bedsharing tropes, and I wanted to see if I could put them all in one fic. Thanks to bookwormcheerleader for the encouragement!

 

 

“I still don’t know why we had to have the pack vacation in the middle of nowhere,” Stiles says, staring up dubiously at the cabin. Sure, it’s two stories tall and has a balcony, but it still looks pretty _rustic_.

“It has all the amenities,” Lydia says, rolling her eyes at him. “And besides, it’s werewolf friendly.”

Stiles had heard that phrase thrown around many times during the discussion and planning of this trip, but he’s still not sure what it means. “What, exactly, is werewolf friendly?”

“Lots of trails and open spaces to run, and no neighbors for miles and miles,” Lydia says, like it should be obvious. “Also, all the rooms are soundproofed.”

Stiles tries, and fails, not to think about the ramifications of _that_. It’s totally not fair that most of his friends are going to be getting lucky, while he—the chronically single—has absolutely no one to canoodle with. “Must be nice,” he grumbles, grabbing his suitcase and backpack out of the trunk. “Where am I bunking?”

Lydia consults an actual _diagram_ —which she won’t let him see—and says, “Upstairs, last door on the right.”

Stiles follows her directions, and walks into the room to only to find Derek already standing there, his own bags in hand.

“Guess we’re rooming together,” he says, glancing over.

“Yeah, I guess so,” Stiles says, shrugging. He doesn’t really mind. At least Derek is single, too. He’s about to say as much when he realizes Derek’s attention is held by something else. When he follows his gaze, he sees that Derek is staring at the bed.

The _only_ bed.

There are no couches or chairs or really any other sleeping surface in the room, besides the floor. And Stiles is _not_ sleeping on the floor during his vacation. No way.

Derek is obviously drawing the same conclusions, because he says, “Clearly the situation calls for us to share.”

“And we can deal with it maturely,” Stiles agrees. “We’re adults.” Though he does feel a little prickle of concern at sharing a bed with Derek, who is both very attractive and far more approachable these days. Stiles might have a little crush on him, but it’s no big deal. Everything will be _fine_.

He puts his luggage away, then heads back downstairs to find out the plan for the rest of the day. Knowing Lydia, there’s probably an itinerary, or something.

And he has so much fun playing and running around with the pack, he completely forgets about the bed situation. At least until it’s getting late, and he finds Derek in their room, getting undressed.

“Please don’t sleep in your underwear, you’re making this way weirder than in has to be,” Stiles blurts, and Derek pauses, already halfway into bed.

“You want me to sleep in my jeans?” he asks, eyebrow raised.

Stiles gets kind of caught up in how little Derek’s boxer-briefs leave to the imagination, so there’s a bit of a delay before he manages to say, “You don’t have any pajamas?”

“Why would I have pajamas?” Derek says, smirking a little. “You should be grateful, I usually sleep nude.”

“Of course you do,” Stiles grumbles. He pointedly lays his own sleep-pants and oversize shirt on the bed, and Derek rolls his eyes. “I have some sweatpants you could borrow?” he adds hopefully.

“I’m good,” Derek says smugly, settling in under the covers.

Stiles makes an annoyed huff, retreats to the bathroom to change and brush his teeth.

When he’s back and settled into bed, Derek switches off the lamp, and Stiles blinks into the sudden darkness before letting his eyes close. He feels Derek shift a little before stilling, and Stiles lays quietly, willing himself not to rustle around too much.

  _Did you go to the bathroom?_ his mind supplies suddenly. Well, it’d probably be best to _go,_ just in case _._ He eases out of bed, pads carefully across the room, and slips into the bathroom, closing the door carefully behind him. When he’s done, he sneaks back to bed and slides under the covers.

He moves carefully, trying to find a comfortable position while staying on his side of the bed, and does his best to relax. But he can feel the time ticking by as he lays there, not sleeping, and after a long while of quietly breathing and trying to lull himself into a dream, he sort of feels like, well…

Better go again. He _hates_ waking up in the middle of the night with an overfull bladder. And Derek will probably hate him too, for disturbing his sleep. So, he slowly inches his way out of bed—

 “How many times do you get up at night to pee?” Derek grumbles. “You should probably see a doctor about that.”

“There’s nothing wrong, I just have a nervous bladder,” Stiles hisses.

“We’re on vacation. What could you possibly be nervous about?” Derek asks dryly.

“I’m nervous about being in a bed with _you_ ,” Stiles says defensively, then, realizing how that sounds, continues with, “Don’t take it personally, I’ve just never really shared a bed with anyone.” _Not anyone I found attractive_ , he adds mentally.

Derek makes a sound that’s probably judgmental, then says, “Well, hurry up. I want to actually get some sleep tonight.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Stiles says, slinking off to the bathroom again.

Derek does seem to get a decent night’s sleep, but Stiles hardly does. It’s too weird, trying to sleep next to someone else.

 

*

 

The next night, Stiles is determined to get some rest.

It’s just hard to get comfortable when half the bed is essentially off-limits. He’s used to being able to sprawl out, and move as much as he wants, as often as he wants. But now—

“Would you please get comfortable and go the fuck to sleep already?” Derek snaps.

“It should be obvious that I’m _trying_ ,” Stiles snaps back. “I’m sorry for disturbing you, but my shoulders are sore from climbing that tree—”

“And who’s idea was that?” Derek cuts in.

“Mine, but everybody seemed to have fun when I suggested it,” Stiles says. There had even been a race to the top—Erica had won, but Allison had been right behind her. “Maybe I should just get up and do some stretches,” he ventures, and Derek groans dramatically.

Stiles doesn’t get up, but he does try to squirm into a more comfortable position. He still can’t get to sleep, though it’s obvious Derek is having no trouble, because after a few moments he starts _snoring_. And Stiles knows it’s a good thing that Derek can fall asleep so easily—he’s pretty sure there have been a lot of times in Derek’s life where he didn’t feel safe enough, and hardly slept at all—but right now he’s not feeling too benevolent about it.

“Since when do you snore?” Stiles asks irritably.

He lays there, trying to let himself drift off, but Derek’s snores are just loud enough to keep waking him up. Stiles is kind of tempted to kick him, but figures he’d hurt his own foot more than he’d hurt Derek. Still, Derek wasn’t snoring last night, so it must be happening now because of the position he’s in.

“Snoring is bad for you,” Stiles mumbles. “So, I’m gonna help.”

He reaches across the bed until he finds Derek’s shoulder, and lightly prods it. Derek shifts a little, but it’s not enough. So, he wedges his other hand under Derek’s hip, and gradually pushes. He expects Derek to come awake and accuse Stiles of trying to shove him out of bed, but he just makes a snuffling sound and rolls over.

And mercifully, the snoring stops.

It still takes Stiles hours to fall asleep.

 

*

 

“Oh, you have got to be kidding me,” Stiles grouses as he wakes up cold _again_.

He’d finally gotten to sleep at a reasonable time, only to have Derek steal all the covers not long afterward. This is the _third time_ it’s happened tonight, and unlike the other times, when Stiles goes to yank some of the blankets back, there’s no give. Derek’s probably has his claws in them.

“Fine,” he says, probably louder than is polite. “You keep them.”

He makes his way downstairs to the living room, grabs the blanket off the back of the couch, then makes his way back upstairs, muttering all the while. He makes sure to cocoon it around himself, trying to limit the possibility of Derek stealing it, too.

He wakes up in the morning feeling rather overheated, and realizes Derek has piled every blanket in the house on top of him.

What an asshole.

 

*  


Stiles is restless and keyed-up, both from the sleep deprivation and the impromptu pillow fight he, Scott and Isaac had right before bedtime. And when he gets that way, he absolutely cannot stop talking, especially if he has to keep still.

“Stiles, it’s three in the morning,” Derek says dangerously. “Ask me again if pigeons have feelings, I dare you.”

“I mean, they’d have to, right? I’m sure they’re sad that people have abandoned them and don’t want them as pets anymore,” Stiles says heedlessly. “And I bet you could smell that! We should go to the park and feed pigeons together, and you can tell me how they’re feeling—”

He’s rudely interrupted by a hand covering his mouth. Stiles keeps on making noise, just to prove that he _can_.

“Stop talking,” Derek says, and Stiles most assuredly does _not_.

There’s a heavy sigh, and then Derek’s arm is coming around him, dragging him across the bed until he’s on his side, back pressed against Derek’s chest.

And it’s certainly _nice_ , but— “If you think this is going to calm me down, I’ll tell you right now that you’re wrong,” Stiles says once his mouth is uncovered.

“Shhh,” Derek says, and then his hand is on Stiles’ arm, slowly stroking up and down. The pressure is firm enough not to tickle, but lighter than a massage, and it’s oddly soothing. It only becomes more so when Derek starts to quietly rumble, a vibration that goes straight from his chest to Stiles’, and seems to calm something inside him.

Stiles would like to make a joke about cats and purring, but his eyes are sliding closed, and he suddenly has no interest in keeping them open.

He doesn’t realize he’s fallen asleep until he wakes up the next morning.

Derek’s already gone, but that’s not unusual. He likes to get up before everyone else so he can enjoy the peace and quiet.

Stiles stretches happily, feeling wonderfully well-rested. Derek has some kind of werewolf magic, he’s sure of it.

He’s totally ready to face canoeing or hiking or whatever’s planned for today.

 

*

 

When Stiles is tired of getting his butt kicked at connect-four by Boyd, he heads upstairs. He’s a little worn out from all the rowing this morning—the pond on the property hadn’t looked large, but it had taken _ages_ to get across it—so he’s thinking he’ll maybe take a little nap.

But when he gets there, the bed is already occupied by Derek, who’s propped up on some pillows and reading a book. Emboldened by their sort-of snuggling last night, Stiles doesn’t hesitate to crawl right up next to him, resting his chin on Derek’s chest.

“You going to put me to sleep again tonight?” he asks with a grin. “Because that was pretty awesome.”

To his surprise, Derek flushes and looks away. “I shouldn’t have done that,” he says quietly.

“Why? Is it some secret werewolf power you weren’t supposed to reveal?” Stiles can’t help teasing.

“No, it’s—something werewolves do for their mates. For someone they’re romantically involved with,” Derek says softly, gaze finally returning to Stiles.

“Oh,” Stiles says. And then he considers: despite the rude cover-hogging and the snoring and the general grumpiness, he still likes Derek. _A lot_. “Well, what if we were?”

Derek just looks at him for a long moment, and Stiles wonders if this isn’t going to go the way he’d hoped. Then Derek’s lips are against his, and he makes a surprised, pleased sound at the contact.

And he kisses Derek back.

 

*

 

He sleeps wonderfully that night, comfortingly held in Derek’s arms.

Turns out sharing a bed isn’t so bad after all.  

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to come by and prompt me/talk to me [ on tumblr](http://dragon-temeraire.tumblr.com/).


End file.
